Lips of Profanity
by HisWarrior
Summary: When Orcs steal the Horn of Queen Susan, Aslan's anger is great. He calls upon the Kings and Queens of Cair Paravel, and with them, the Warrior of Narnia, to find the horn and to finish off a battle that had begun two years before. Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

**A fan of "The First Warrior" asked me if I would make a sequel. I replied that if I did, it would be a between story during the Golden Age. After thinking about it, I'm starting it. Enjoy.**

**Warning: You may want to read "The First Warrior" if you haven't yet before reading this.**

**Disclaimer: I own very little in this story. That little would be Miranda and Onyx. **

** Lips of Profanity**

* * *

** Not to be Taken**

Moonlight shone on the white marble floor as a greasy black foot glided upon it. The creature that belonged to the foot looked toward the canopy bed in the middle of the room. Its sharp eyes could distinguish the figure of a young woman with dark auburn hair and fair skin.

The creature licked its lips with a black tongue, revealing jagged teeth of brown and black.

But no; his masters orders had been specific. Get in, get it, and get out.

It had been fairly easy to get in. The fell beast had been swift and silent, and he himself had always been well known for his ways of stealth.

He continued his silent trek across the room, his eyes, so accustomed to the darkness, darting back and forth, looking for it.

Then his eyes saw it. An ivory horn in the shape of a roaring lion, hanging upon a peg on the wall.

Slimy green hands took it from its place on the wall and placed it in a pouch that hung upon his waist.

The young woman stirred in the bed, moaning softly. The creature froze, a hand going to his dagger, ready if needed. But the moment passed, and her breathing became slow and deep once again.

The being quickly slipped back to the open window and gave a soft birdlike whistle. A giant animal with dragonlike wings soared down towards him and bent its neck down. He grabbed onto the fell beast, and it soared towards the northwest. Within moments, a flash of light surrounded it, and the creature disappeared.

* * *

Opaque blue, cat-eye green, and crimson red eyes searched the skies for the fell beast and its rider. The Orc party had been sent messages that it would arrive at the ruins of Isengard at dawn. The Orc's eyes looked to the horizon. It was almost time.

Suddenly, a great roar sounded throughout the cold morning air, and a beast of great might and power followed. It landed next to the Orc party, with a single Orc on its back. The rider slipped off the fell beast, and the creature lifted itself back into the air, heading back to its hole for some rest.

The Orc, named Galza, handed over his booty to the captain of that Orc party, Carth. Carth took the ivory horn out of the pouch, and looked at it greedily.

"Surely the master will not mind us using it once," the captain stated.

The mass of Orcs, ugly and terrifying, cried out for their captain to use it. Their own, after all, had gotten it for him. So why shouldn't they blow it.

With lips that stank of blood and filth, the captain of the Orcs blew upon this horn.

The sound that emitted from it was the worst sound they had ever heard. Harsher than a fell beasts crow, crueler than a Nazgul's cry, and louder than the Balrog's roar.

It was long, and loud, and crooked. It sounded like a beast of darkness and death, of hopelessness and pain, torture and filth. The Orcs had never been scared of any sound before, but now they howled and covered their ears, bending over as if in pain.

Finally, the sound stopped, and the Orcs stood up. Some shook, some laughed at their own fear, but only one remained stone silent.

Carth was looking at the horizon.

Eight black figures were coming towards them.

* * *

Unseen by any, but watching the entire time, stood a figure upon a mound of broken rocks. A lion, brighter than the sun and as large as a small elephant.

The great lion looked upon the Orcs with anger burning in his amber eyes.

Their profane and lying lips had touched something made for purity and truth. They had taken a gift that had been given to one, and were using it as an instrument for death and destruction.

He threw back his great golden mane and roared long and loud and clear. The earth shook beneath, and the skies were suddenly cloudless.

Aslan's eyes went back to the Orcs. This would have to be dealt with. And it would be dealt with by hard hands and strong hearts. It would be dealt with by those they stole the horn from.

Narnians.

It was time for Middle Earth to remember them.


	2. Searching

**Searching**

* * *

In a single room made of marble stone, within the castle of Cair Paravel, three figures spoke and discussed. One was a young man, lying down upon a canopy bed, bandages revealing that he had been in a recent battle. A young woman sat near him, her pale skin like porcelain. Another man, younger than the first, stood near, a hand upon the hilt of his sword.

"Are you absolutely certain?" said the one lying in bed.

"Of course I'm certain Peter," the young woman answered. "The horn was in my room last night, and now it's not."

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," remarked the other. His dark hair and dark eyes were calm and cool, and he dressed in royal clothing of dark green and tanned brown.

"Oh, don't get me started Ed!" the young woman exclaimed. Her dark auburn hair lay softly upon her shoulders, and her fair skin was complimented by a deep purple dress with gold lining. "All I can think of is that someone came into my room last night, and was this close to possibly.... oh," she moaned.

"Well, we'll just have to start a search won't we," Peter answered.

The two others looked towards their elder brother. His golden hair lay across his forehead, and blue eyes showed the look of a great warrior. But still, he looked tired, and slightly pale.

"I don't know Peter," the young woman answered. "You still haven't recovered from the bout with the northern giants."

"Lucy's cordial can heal wounds," Edmund said, "But it can't restore lost blood."

"But I have been in this room for nearly two weeks now, just staring up at the ceiling," Peter replied. "Susan, surely I can at least get up and out of the bed and do something."

"Maybe," Susan replied, "But a search party would not be one of those things."

Peter rolled his eyes and lay back on the pillows.

Quite suddenly, the bedroom doors burst open and the youngest of the four rulers burst in. Her dress of navy blue was a little wrinkled and her hair was flying everywhere.

"Has anyone seen her?" she managed to say between gasps of breath.

"Who's her?" Edmund asked.

"Miranda, of course!"

Peter immediately sat up.

"What do you mean Lu?"

Lucy gave a huff of exhasperation.

"I mean, that I went to Miranda's room to give her the news of the missing horn, and she was gone."

Susan narrowed her eyes and balled her fists.

"I'm going to...." Susan began, her teeth clenched.

"You're going to what?" Edmund said, his sarcasm evident. "Don't ever think that you can try and stop Miranda when she's got her head into something."

"But she hasn't healed enough either," Susan replied. "She is still weak, and..."

"And you can't keep her in a bed for days on end Susan. Just like we aren't going to be able to keep Peter in bed, now that he has heard that Miranda is out."

All three heads turned to Peter, who was rising out of his bed and had begun putting on a crimson red shirt.

"Oh no you don't Peter," Lucy said sternly.

"If Miranda is up, I'm getting up too," Peter replied. "She was wounded just as badly as I was, and has been in bed just as long. If you can't keep her in bed, you are not going to keep me in."

Susan gave a great sigh.

"Sometimes, I wish that Aslan had given us a more obedient warrior."

Her three siblings laughed out loud. Then, a being made up of oak leaves entered the room.

"Forgive me your majesties," it said in a slow and creaky voice, "But I bring news from the warrior."

"Tell us if you please, my good dryad," Edmund said.

"The warrior wishes to let you know that word travels quickly, and that she has gone in search of the Queen Susan's missing horn. She also says that she is the only other one that knows this, and that I am not to say a word of this to anyone else."

"Thank you," Edmund said, dismissing the leafy figure.

"Oh dear," Lucy sighed as the oak dryad disappeared. There would be no keeping Peter still now.

"Let's go then," Peter stated. And that settled it.

* * *

Further into Narnia, surrounded by green trees and rolling hills, a single figure rode gracefully upon the back of a coal black horse. The horse was neither bridled nor saddled. The figure's clothing was dark green and brown, and a brown cloak covered it. A hood fell over its face. A bow and quiver of arrows rested upon its back, and a sword hung on the left side of its waist while a dagger claimed the right.

As the horse and rider turned into a valley, they suddenly stopped. The rider leaned over the horse's back, looking at the ground. It swiftly slid off the horse, and began to study the ground more closely.

The rider pulled the hood off of its head to take a better look. Shoulder length dark blonde hair fell out, pulled halfway up out of its face. Sharp hazel eyes glinted with worry as it made out the imprint of a large claw. The rider, a young woman, stood up, and saw another imprint, exactly like the first.

"What is it Warrior?" asked the black horse

The young woman turned to her steed, and shook her head.

"Something has been here Onyx. Something that I have no knowledge of."

For she was looking upon footprints that were as large as a giants foot, but as curled as a dragons claw.

There was no dragon this size in the land of Narnia.

* * *

"For the last time Peter, please..."

"I've told you once before. I then told you twice. I shall now repeat myself for not the third, nor the fourth, but the fifth time. I am going."

Susan finally gave up. When Peter was this determined, nothing got in his way.

All four were in the royal stables, saddling and bridling their horses. They had stableboys to do this, but they preferred doing it themselves. Especially when they wanted to talk.

"Listen, I'll stick with Lucy, and she'll keep me out of trouble. I won't do anything out of her consent."

"Except get out of bed," said Lucy from behind him.

"Yes. Except that."

It had been decided that they would split up. Peter and Lucy would head one direction, and Edmund and Susan would head another way.

"Susan and I will start going west," Edmund voiced, trying to keep the peace between his brother and sisters. "And it might be a good idea if you and Lucy start right here, and work your way south from the shore."

"That is a good idea," cried Susan. "If you get into any trouble, you can call a dryad, or the mermaids."

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Yes, he can," Edmund replied, very pointedly. Both Peter and Susan took the hint and shut up.

"Any word from Miranda?" Lucy asked.

"Not since the dryad came this morning," Edmund answered. "You know; I've got the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like something is about to happen."

"Really?"

"Yes. Like..., I'm not sure... Just something strange."

"Maybe you should take Philip," Lucy replied.

"No. He's resting right now. It'll be fine."

"Well, let's get on with it," Susan said, finishing off the last cinch on the girth. The four royals climbed onto their horses, and they started off in separate directions.

* * *

Miranda's eyes searched the ground further. Onyx walked slowly and carefully, as to not tread upon any of the claw prints.

The beast's prints showed that it had had a rough landing. The prints were scattered and uneven.

But how had it come without any of the Narnian's noticing?

Her anger burned as she thought of what might have gone into the Gentle Queen's chambers last night. Who knew what it might have been, or what it could have done.

She mentally kicked herself for not keeping a closer watch. If any harm came to the queen, it would have been her fault. It was her duty to make sure that they were safe, and if anything happened to them, Miranda knew that she would never be able to forgive herself.

That was why she had gotten up without fully healing. That was why she was going to do all that was within her power to find whomever had done this, and finish them off.

But she had no more time to think on this. Suddenly, the air was filled with a sound far more horrible and terrible than any sound that she had ever heard before.

But she had heard it before. It was a sound that haunted her worst nightmares. It was long and loud, filled with pain and horror and dread. It was the sound her heart had made when she knew of Aslan's death. It was the sound her mind had screamed when she saw Edmund fall to the witch.

Onyx gave a high neigh and bent over. The sound was so horrid, it was painful. Miranda closed her ears and rested her head against Onyx's back.

--

For Onyx, the sound reminded him of a sight that had haunted him, two years ago. The sight of his mistress and warrior lying upon the ground, her back torn and bleeding. It took him to a more recent scene, the High King beside her, both near dead upon the Northern plains of Ettinsmoor after their battle with the giants.

He gave another loud neigh, and he heard his mistress cry out in pain.

That was how horrid this sound was.

After a few moments, the sound ended. Neither opened their eyes for many seconds. Then, a little shakily, Onyx held himself straight and opened his eyes.

His shoulders tensed and his eyes widened.

He could feel the warrior's shock in her voice.

"By the mane..."

* * *

"There doesn't seem to be much to go on over here," Peter shouted over to his sister, who was a good twenty feet behind him. He lay over, bent on his saddle, searching the ground for any prints or anything out of the ordinary.

The sun towered overhead, showing that it was nearly ten o'clock. Waves crashed upon the dark sand, and he could hear mermaids playing in the sea.

"I know," Lucy replied after catching up. "You'd think that if someone came to the castle, they'd have come by the beach. But I see nothing of interest. Maybe we should head inland for a little bit."

Peter nodded his head in agreement. The two began to ride west.

It was another quarter of an hour before something happened. And it was not what they expected.

It was a sound. A horrible, terrible, angry sound, that made the skies quake in fear.

Peter's heart gave a wrench, and his horse began to rear in fright.

"Aah!" Lucy cried as her horse threw her off and disappeared into the woods.

Peter leapt off his horse and went towards her, but he did not make it far. The sound intensified, and he bent over, howling in pain. He felt Lucy grab hold of him, and he held her tightly, trying to close his ears as he did so.

His horse gave a shrill neigh and tossed its head angrily. The sound hurt. It hurt so badly that Peter saw images of his worst nightmares. Edmund's near death at the battle of Beruna, Susan's wound from the black dwarf, Lucy's face as her life slipped away before getting the cordial.

He heard Lucy whimper, and he held her tighter.

--

The image Lucy saw was Aslan upon the Stone Table, beaten, bruised, then dead. It was the worst sight of her life, and she once again relived it.

Finally, after a long time, the sound ended, and the brother and sister looked up.

What they saw was a field of green that they did not recognize.

* * *

"But surely you don't feel sorry for him," Edmund argued.

They were debating upon their recent adventures with the Calormen and Prince Rabadash.

"Well, would you like to have been turned into a donkey?" Susan asked.

"That's not the point," replied Edmund. "The point is the fact that you actually feel sorry for him after what he almost did to you and to Narnia."

"Well," defended Susan, "What's the matter with that?"

Edmund rolled his eyes.

"You are impossible!"

Their argument was cut short. As has been said before, a sound pierced through, more frightening and terrible than any sound they had heard before.

Once again, Edmund saw the White Witch, glaring at him as he tried to save the fox, Hunta.

Susan once more saw every wound that her brother's had taken for herself, her sister, and Narnia.

They both fell off of their horses with shock, and the horses fled, neighing shrilly.

Their eyes filled with tears and they tried to shut off their minds from the sound.

When the sound ended, they found themselves in a dark ruin that they had no knowledge of.


	3. Middle What?

**Middle What???**

* * *

The eyes of Lord Elrond opened slowly. He stared out towards the east, as if searching for something there.

"You hear it too," he said solemnly.

His words were to an elderly man, dressed from head to toe in white robes. He leaned upon a white staff, and his sea blue eyes gave a piercing gaze.

The two stood within the houses of Rivendell, which lay within a valley of green trees and tall waterfalls. The rooms were left open and free of doors or windows, letting the air flow smoothly around them.

Elrond took a step towards the elder man, hearing the crunch of leaves beneath his feet.

"You hear the sound just as clearly as I do."

"It comes from the east," the man said. "It appears that another foul thing is coming from that direction."

Elrond's brow furrowed in what might have seemed to be confusion.

"First Sauron, now this new mystery," the man continued, his voice agitated and grave.

"You sound as if the east were the cause of all our problems Gandalf," Elrond said.

"Is it not?" Gandalf replied, glancing over at him. "For years I have looked in that direction with fear in my heart. Even after Sauron's defeat, I detest traveling in that direction. I'd much rather face the west, where I have no fear nor reason to have fear."

"But," began Elrond, "There are those who fear the west just as much as you fear the east. Trouble may have come to us from that way, but there are deeper things within the eastern horizon that you have not come to realize."

"Such as?"

"Things and places of such goodness and beauty that even the elves envy those that live there."

"You will have to prove that to me someday Lord Elrond," said Gandalf in a disbelieving voice. "But it will not be this day."

Lord Elrond couldn't help but smile. The white wizard had no idea what Eru had in store for him.

* * *

If it weren't for the fact that he had no idea where he was or how he got there, Peter would have been impressed by the lush green fields that surrounded both he and his sister. But, the situation being what it was, he was not.

"Lucy," his voice croaked. "Are you alright?"

"I...I'm fine Peter," she replied, her voice shaking from the sudden shock. Her hand went instinctively to the knife at her side. Confirming that it was there, she reached out to touch the end of her back, where she could just feel the end of her quiver. Once more, a hand went to her side, then relaxed when finding the cordial bottle still in place.

Meanwhile, Peter had been checking on his own things. Rhindon was still secure at his side, and his shield was still upon his back. He put a hand in his right boot, and felt the hilt of his knife within. It seemed that he had everything.

"Where have the horses gone?" Lucy suddenly asked.

The siblings leapt up and began looking in all directions, but neither of their horses were anywhere in sight.

"Oh, bother!" Peter exclaimed. "What food and water we had was on their saddlebags."

"Oh dear."

But both grew silent when they suddenly heard something. It sounded like laughter, coming from the north, just above the ridge of a small hill.

Lucy took a step forward. On impulse, Peter grabbed her hand.

"Lucy, we don't know where we are, or what enemies might lie here. It would probably be best if we told no one we are a king and queen, or that we come from Narnia."

His youngest sister nodded her head. They both knew the dangers of giving that information to unknown enemies. It was a precaution that had saved their lives more than once.

The two began to slowly walk towards the sounds of talking and laughter. Just before reaching the peak of the hill, they crouched down, and slowly crawled along the grassy floor.

The siblings peeked up, and saw the strangest sight they had ever seen. There were little people, about three feet high, walking about, laughing and eating and talking as if there were nothing better else to do. Peter and Lucy might have thought that they were dwarves, except these had no beards, and they seemed much lighter and freer than a dwarf would act.

Peter sensed something wrong. But his senses were one second too slow.

"I don't like the way you two are spying on them."

Lucy and Peter swerved their heads around to see a tall, gangly man. His dark hair hung messy around his face, and his clothes were muddy and ragged. But his eyes bore great wisdom, and his bearing was that of royalty.

"Now," he began, "Why don't you tell who you are and what you are doing here?"

* * *

"Ouch!" exclaimed Edmund as he purposefully pinched himself.

"Nope. It's not a dream."

"Where are we?" Susan moaned hopelessly.

"I have no idea."

"Well, that's stating the obvious!" Susan snapped.

Edmund rolled his eyes and didn't answer. He knew that this was typical of Susan when she was scared and worried.

"Oh! Where are the horses?" she said, wringing her hands together. "And where are the others? Oh, bother! And at a time that I really need my horn, it's gone missing."

Edmund stepped over towards his elder sister. Though she was older, he was at least three inches taller.

He grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her close to him, forcing her to lay her head against his shoulder. She complied, and began to slowly breathe. After a few moments, her heart rate slowed, and she breathed normally.

"Thanks Ed."

"That's what I'm here for."

The two then began to take a quick look around them. They seemed to be in what was left of a city. Many of the walls had crumbled down, but there were signs of it having been recently inhabited. As Edmund looked towards the east, he could see dark mountains rising.

Suddenly, he tensed. Trained by the wood dryads to hear even the slightest noise, he heard a foot brushing against stone. Less than a second later, he heard the strain of a bow being drawn.

"Susan!" he shouted.

He swiftly bolted from the place he was standing. Susan, hearing his cry, took cover.

**Whizz!!**

The arrow flew past Edmund's head by inches. It embeded itself in a crack within the wall in front of him, and shook from its momentum.

Susan immediately stepped out from her hiding place, an arrow on the string. Taking only the time to note that he was safe, she shot at the spot where the arrow had come.

"AAAHH!" came a startled cry, and a tall man dressed in silver armor emerged from his shelter. Susan's arrow had caught his thigh, and he began to hobble on his good leg.

Suddenly, ten or fifteen more men emerged from behind the city walls and surrounded the two siblings. Edmund protectively put a hand in front of Susan.

The men were all dressed in silver armor, with a white tree emblazed on the front. Pointed helmets covered their heads, and great broadswords hung at their sides. Their faces were all hard and dark, and each held a bow with an arrow at full draw.

Suddenly, someone shouted:

"Are you really going to do that?"

Three or four of the men looked for the source of the voice. Edmund's gaze followed theirs.

On top of one of the high walls upon a dark bay horse was another armored man. But unlike the others, he wore no helmet and a blue cape covered his shoulders. His light blonde hair hung loose around his face, and his grey eyes were stern.

"Sir, these two are..." one began.

"These two are a young woman and a man just coming out of boyhood!" the rider exclaimed. "Stand down!"

The men, grumbling a bit, put down their weapons. Edmund distinctly heard "stupid kids."

"But sir," said one soldier, who seemed to be the eldest of the group. "These two appeared out of nowhere, like ghosts. It is more than likely that they are sorcerors. Maybe that one," he continued, pointing to Susan, "Is a witch!"

Edmund, anger rousing, stepped forward.

"If you dare ever call my sister a witch again, I will cut your tongue out."

"Edmund," Susan whispered behind him, grabbing his shoulder.

"What?" taunted the soldier. "Do you not like witches?"

"I happen to hate them," Edmund said dangerously.

"That's enough Bor," said the rider. The soldier inclined his head to the rider, and wisely stepped back.

The rider now urged his horse on, and Edmund could hear it clip-clopping down to them.

The horse and rider reappeared in another second, and the rider dismounted. He walked toward them calmly and mildly.

"Might I introduce myself," said he. "My name is Lord Faramir, and I am the Steward of Gondor."

Edmund tensed at the word. He could feel Susan grip his shoulder tighter. Both knew now that they were walking upon dangerous ground.

"Tell me," continued Lord Faramir. "Who are you, and how did you get into Osgiliath without alerting my soldiers?"

Edmund knew that tone of voice. It was a dangerously mild tone.

His favorite.

* * *

"Run Onyx! Run!!!"

Miranda shouted as she barely held onto the coal black mane as the horse ploughed its way through the murky forest.

**AWOOO!!!** came a cry from behind them.

Miranda didn't dare look back.

The trees surrounding them seemed to grow larger and darker. They couldn't see the sky anymore, and the ground became rough and hard, so that Onyx stumbled as he ran.

Suddenly, a crowd of large boulders seemed to spring up out of nowhere. Onyx neighed wildly as he skid to a stop.

Then came the beast wolf.

It was huge. A great hulking beast that stood on all fours. To Miranda, it seemed like a much larger, much clumsier werewolf.

But there was no more time to think on details. The wolf beast leapt over Onyx and landed in front of him. Onyx reared in defense. His strong legs kicked back at the wolf.

But Miranda couldn't keep her grip. Suddenly, she lost hold of Onyx, falling to the ground with a loud grunt. A cloud of dust rose up as she landed, and she coughed at the impact on her lungs.

The beast immediately left Onyx and went for her. Miranda had only time to grab her knife before the wolf was right on top of her. He snarled as his jaw sank for her throat.

With wolf's breath right below her nose, which stank of rotten flesh, Miranda took the only escape she thought possible. Pushing up so that the wolf was more on her chest than her throat, she plunged her knife towards its head.

At the wrong moment, the beast turned its overgrown skull, and she missed the vulnerable point. Instead, her knife dug into the monster's eye.

The wolf cried out in pain, clawing at its eye as blood ran down its face.

She suddenly felt the beasts pressure pushed off of her as Onyx ran into it. But the wolf was angry now. It leapt back up as swiftly as a naiad, and was on top of her once more before she had a moment to breathe. One of its hairy claws stepped on her hand with the knife.

Once more, it sank its teeth.

Rather being wounded than killed, Miranda put the middle of her free arm into the wolf's mouth.

The beast bit down hard, and Miranda cried out in pain.

But she wasn't going down without a fight. Releasing the knife, she pulled her arm out of the wolfs grip, and began beating its head with as much force as she could muster.

The wolf suddenly yelped as it was flung off of her body by Onyx's rear legs. But the yank caused a deeper wound on Miranda's arm, and tears began to streak down her face.

Then, something happened that neither one was aware of.

A great, big, rooty, foot, came crashing down upon the wolf beast, crushing it beneath its weight.

Miranda hurriedly turned around to see where the foot had come from.

But she never got a chance.

"YYAH!" she exclaimed as she was suddenly lifted up by one of her legs.

"Haroommm. What is this?" said a deep, slow, creaky voice.

The being dangled her by the one leg so that she was hanging upside down.

"If you dare to hurt her master dryad, I will make you wish that you had never been born!" Onyx shouted from below.

"Harrooomm! Hummm!!! Dryad? No, I am no dryad. Though there were those that called me dryad before. Who was it? And, when did you learn to talk master horse? There have not been talking horses in Middle Earth for over 100 years."

Miranda froze. Onyx became absolutely still.

"Did... did you just say Middle Earth?" Miranda asked.

"Yes, yes I did," said the being, whom Miranda now had to guess was some sort of plant or tree person.

"What about it?" it continued.

But Miranda didn't answer. If they really were in Middle Earth, than she was not going to get any help in getting back home.


	4. Silence is Golden

**Silence is Golden**

* * *

Faramir studied the two foreigners before him closely. He could understand their surprise and wariness of himself and his men. He could even understand the reason for the boy's outburst on his sister's behalf. What he couldn't understand was the reactions they had made at his title and country.

The young woman had become as white as a sheet, and a look of pure rage had crossed the boy's features. Both recovered quickly, and Faramir doubted if anyone else had seen their reactions.

"My name is Edmund," said the boy. He then glanced at the girl. "This is my sister, Susan. How we came to Osgiliath," he continued, turning back to him, "I know not."

"How can you have come into Osgiliath without knowing you did?" said one of the soldiers.

"Silence," Faramir commanded, glancing angrily at the outspoken soldier. The man immediately quieted and lowered his gaze.

Faramir looked back to the boy, nodding for him to continue.

"My sister and I were traveling westward, searching for a treasure lost to our people," the boy continued. "It was at this time that we suddenly heard a terrible sound. We both could not withstand the pain it gave us. And when the sound ended, we found ourselves here."

Some of the soldiers surrounding the two began making grunting sounds of disbelief.

Faramir was not among them.

There was a tone in the boy's voice that made Faramir certain he was telling the truth. And even if that weren't enough, the lad's final words caught him off guard, and he knew without a doubt that he was speaking honestly.

He too had heard the sound.

That wretched, horrid, malicious sound that pierced through his veins like poison.

He had been one of few that had heard the noise.

Queen Arwen had told him:

_"There is a strange power within that sound. Something black, and dark. Watch yourself well Faramir. There is more to such an occurance than meets the eye."_

But Faramir was still wary of the two. A sixth sense told him that there was more to their story than they said.

After a few moments more of debating it over, he decided.

"You will come with us to Gondor. The Lady Arwen will decide your fate."

The boy Edmund gave a short bow, and the girl Susan quickly curtsied. Neither looked up at him, but both looked towards each other. And Faramir saw within a moment what no one else's eyes could see.

A short, curt nod of understanding.

* * *

Miranda felt like she was going to be sick if the thing carried her upside down much longer.

Onyx whinnied beneath her.

"Sir Ent, If you would please put my mistress down."

_"That's it! It's an Ent,"_ Miranda remembered at Onyx's words. How could she have forgotten the distant cousin to the Dryad? Had Orieus taught her nothing, that she should forget so quickly?

"Aahh," hummed the Ent. "Now that's a bit better."

With another deep haroom that erupted from his chest, he gently set Miranda upon the ground.

As soon as she was set upon the ground, she hurriedly scrambled up to her feet and examined her wounded arm.

It was about 4 inches in length and 1 in width. But it wasn't that part that hurt.

The last hard yank had torn it diagonally to the right, and it was at least half an inch deep now.

Miranda couldn't help but chuckle to herself as she thought of what Lucy would say if she saw her now.

She then turned to look towards the Ent.

He was tall. Really tall.

He looked related to a sycamore. A long beard ran down to his bark covered legs, and a leafy crown shaped his head. Two golden eyes looked down upon her.

For one of the only times in her life, her legs trembled.

"Now," hummed the Ent, "What might you two Narnians be doing here?"

Miranda would have spoken, had she not been so shocked that the Ent knew that they were Narnians.

"Hmmm," he hummed again. "The lady of light will know."

He turned around, and began to take large bulky steps.

"Follow me," he bellowed.

For no other reason than to keep the Ent happy, she did.

* * *

Lucy could feel her brother tense beside her.

She knew his ways. She knew that if he found any reason to, he would attack upon instant. Even now, his hand reached for his sword.

Lucy's hand hurriedly touched his. His gaze relaxed some, and his shoulders softened. This was Lucy's only silent way of telling him to relax.

Her attention quickly reverted back to the man.

His gaze was hard, and his voice had been sharp. Lucy wished that Peter would hurry up and talk before the man began to think that they were trying to decieve him.

"My name is Peter," her brother finally said, and she let a sigh escape her lips.

Peter then nodded his head towards her.

"This is my sister Lucy."

The man gave a nod of his head towards her, and Lucy noticed his eyes soften.

And it was then that she noticed the smaller two.

Both of them were like the others creatures that they had seen just moments before. Only three feet in height.

The first one stood on the man's left. He was by far the bigger and plumper of the two. His sandy hair seemed to go where it wished, and his eyes were honest but fierce.

The second one seemed very sad and lonely to Lucy. Even for his size, he was of a very slight build. His skin seemed far too pale, and his eyes looked haunted by some hidden past. But there was also something about him that spoke of a great wisdom and deep kindness.

"We were not spying upon the small ones as you proclaim," Peter continued, nodding his head towards the man's companions. "But we heard their laughter over the hill, and our curiosity got the better of us."

"We're called hobbits, not small ones," said the larger one, indignantly.

Lucy saw Peter's face catch in a small smile. Had not dignitaries from many countries called him boy or prince before?

"Forgive my mistake sir hobbit," repled Peter. His attention then turned back to the man. "We come from the east sire, searching for a valuable object. We lost our way in the process."

Again, Lucy sighed. Thank the Lion, Peter had had enough political practice to tell the truth without giving all the information away.

The man nodded his head.

"Where from Middle Earth did you come from?"

_"Thank goodness I didn't gasp," _thought Lucy as the words sprang from the man's lips.

Peter's face was impassive, but she once again saw his shoulders tense.

"Near Gondor," he replied, once again speaking truthfully.

He nodded his head once more.

"That is where we are headed. If you would like to join us so that you don't get lost again, we would be glad of the company."

Peter and Lucy exchanged glances. Both knew that they needed to get somewhere, and neither knew where they were going. They needed someone's help.

But to align themselves with someone would also increase the chances of their getting caught. Of someone finding out who they really were.

But that was just a risk they were going to have to take.

"We would greatly appreciate that sir," Peter replied.

"Good," said the man. "My name is Aragorn."

He turned and indicated the hobbit to his left.

"This is Samwise Gamgee..."

He then turned to the other.

"And Frodo Baggins."

"Pleased to meet you all," said Lucy.

"And you Lady Lucy," replied Frodo. And Lucy distinctly saw a light in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

* * *

Far to the east, in the very ruins of Mordor itself, a council of two single men was held within a deep cavern.

A single candle was lit upon a table. No more light could be spared.

"I do not see the gain in this my friend," said one, pacing the floor as he spoke. "We take the horn instead of killing the queen, go into this land of filth instead of back to our own country, and align ourselves with despicable creatures from here and Narnia that could very easily turn against us."

The other man was silent for a moment, allowing his companion to contemplate a few moments more. Then, he spoke.

"You will remember, old friend, that because of me, we were so close to taking over Narnia. And you will also remember that because of you, we lost that victory."

"I am not the only one to blame," seethed the first, pounding his hand upon the table. For a moment, the light flickered, then danced back up to reveal his dark face. Then he began pacing again.

"No, you are not," replied the second calmly. "But you did cause some. And that is the reason you must trust me. If we are going to have our revenge, we must do it right this time."

"But why this place? Why Middle Earth?"

"Surely you know of the animosity between Middle Earth and Narnia."

The companion nodded his head.

"Middle Earth has forgotten Narnia and the wrong it caused her, but Narnia does not so easily forget. They still remember. They still remember the oath broken and the lies tangling the promises. They have held a great anger towards Middle Earth. If the deadly creatures of both worlds become united, then neither will be able to do anything to stop it. One has forgotten. The other is lost in anger."

Suddenly, they heard a shuffling outside of the room, and both turned towards the door.

The door burst open, and in burst Carth, a captain of the orcs.

"Well," said the second.

Carth handed him a bundle wrapped in cloth. The man unwrapped it, and within was the ivory horn of Queen Susan.

But not all ivory now.

The mouthpiece had gone a dark shade of purple, and three jagged black lines were streaking down its side.

The man felt the mouthpiece and lines. They were dry as sand.

"I took the liberty of calling for some help already," said the orc.

From behind him walked three black firgures. They were hooded and cloaked, but each had a great broadsword at its side.

"Five more await outside," said the orc.

He stepped towards one of the Nazgul. The air around it was as cold as ice.

Yes, they would do.

"Your first order is to punish this orc for disobeying orders," he barked.

The Nazgul nodded, and the other two grabbed onto Carth.

"But I followed your orders," the orc bellowed, struggling to break free.

"You blew the horn," he replied, eyeing the horn. "That was not among any of my orders."

The Nazgul left the room, carrying the wild and writhing orc up to the surface.

"I shall be obeyed."


	5. Where To Go Now

**Where To Go Now**

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

Treebeard took one step, then took another. Then he turned around to glance at the young woman beside him.

She couldn't have been much older than 20, but her eyes executed a far different age. Her left hand clutched her sword as she nearly ran to keep up with him. Her horse trotted just behind her, and it took Treebeard a moment to realize that the two were arguing in hushed tones.

"No," said she. "I will not ride. You are tired and weary, and have carried me for many miles. You need to rest for now."

"I am well rested already," the horse argued.

"Then explain your irregular gait Onyx," she challenged. "Until you are fully rested, I'm not going to ride you."

The argument continued furthur, but Treebeard decided not to eavesdrop.

Yet, he smiled to himself at what he had heard.

It had been so long since he had seen the devotion between a talking horse and its rider.

He, like many of old, knew that there were very few talking horses who allowed themselves to be bonded to a human. To see it, still playing out after a hundred years, made him feel younger somehow.

"Might I ask why Lady Galadriel would be within the forests of Fangorn?" the girl suddenly asked.

Treebeard stopped dead in his tracks.

"You know of these things?"

"I may be young," she replied, "but I have been taught by old. Narnians do not forget wrongs done to them easily."

"But you know where we are? You know that this is Fangorn Forest? How?"

"For the mere fact that you are an Ent. Ents normally keep to themselves within the Forests of Fangorn. Or so I have been taught."

"And you knew the name of the lady of light."

"I have Narnian friends that knew her well. The naiads and dryads remember her voice and ways. They never forget."

Treebeard was still a bit confused. But then again, he was quite slow. He didn't like things thrown at him so quickly.

"And they told you these things? They wish you to know?"

"It has only been a hundred years since the bridge between our two countries. We believe that the wrongs must be made right, and therefore, we are taught all that we need know."

Treebeard had no reply for that.

A silence fell upon the group, before the horse voiced:

"So.... we still wish to know why the lady of light would be within this forest."

Treebeard alomost rolled his eyes. My, these two were impatient.

"They visit often since the defeat of Sauron."

The girl looked at him and her eyes sparked, but she said nothing.

Treebeard continued to lead the girl and her steed through the Forest.

The young woman seemed to know when they were getting close. Her pace quickened, and her face took on more color.

They rounded a final corner, and the forest seem to light up. Within a secluded glade, underneath the high branches of beech trees, stood the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel.

Lord Celeborn was tall, and his face was wise. He wore robes of silvery blue that reached down to his toes, and his hair was a dark blonde.

But it was Lady Galadriel that shone like a star. It was no wonder they called her the lady of light. Her hair was like a golden waterfall that rippled in the wind. Her skin was pale and bright, and her eyes were blue as the sky.

The young woman stepped forward, and bowed at the waist before them.

"Welcome to Middle Earth one of Narnia," said Celeborn in a soft, grave voice.

"I thank you for your welcome," she replied, "Though I do believe that yours might be the only welcome I receive."

"Nevertheless," he replied, "It is good to see you here. And it brings much joy to our hearts to know that the prophecy has been fulfilled. Tell us, where are the two kings and other queen of Narnia?"

Her eyes widened for a moment before she spoke.

"Sire, before I tell you anything, I must assure you that I am not one of those spoken of in the prophecy."

"How is this so?" Celeborn asked.

"My lord, though the prophecy has been fulfilled, I was not one of those that fulfilled it. I was just another person trying to gain the freedom of Narnia. As for my kings and queens, I know not where they are, though I desperately hope that they are still in Narnia where I can trust others to keep them safe."

"If you are part of no prophecy as you say," Lady Galadriel said in her soft but firm voice," then why are you here at all? Why were you brought to Narnia?"

"Simply because Aslan called me. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Then that is enough," replied Galadriel. "Tell us your name child."

"I am called Miranda."

"Come then, Miranda. Walk with us, and tell us how all these things came to pass."

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

Susan tried not to let her fear show as the men surrounded herself and Edmund on horseback, leading them to Minas Tirith. The white city.

_"Can't be much of a white city if it has a black heart," _Susan thought to herself.

Oh, why couldn't they all have just stayed home like she had suggested? If they had just listened to her, they wouldn't be in this mess right now.

Then she remembered. They had listened to her when Rabadash had invited them to Calormen, and look where that had gotten them.

_"Oh Aslan, help me!"_

As they neared the city, the gates were opened, and Susan realized that Minas Tirith didn't just look big from the outside.

It was huge. Level upon level of whitewashed stone, gleaming like a moon beam in the clear sunlight.

They were lead up 7 staircases and 6 levels before the company came to a halt.

"The foreigners shall dismount," said Faramir, and Susan dared not to argue. As she slid off her horse's back, she noticed that one of the men was glaring at her. It was the one that had accused her of being a witch.

Lowering her gaze, she stepped beside Edmund, who was calm and cool as ever.

Dear Edmund. Edmund that kept her strong when she felt so weak.

He lay a hand upon her arm, and the warmth it gave her took a bit of her fear away.

Lord Faramir led them forth, and they soon found themselves within a magnificent courtyard. In the center of the courtyard was a small pool, and in the center of the pool was a white tree. The tree had a single bud at the top of its branches, and other small branches were beginning to bloom.

The steward signaled to the guards standing at a pair of tall double doors, which were woven and decorated with silver metal. The guards opened the doors, and the three walked into an enormous hallway. Again, the walls, ceiling, and floor were whitewashed so that it almost looked as if you were walking in snow. There were 10 windows, 5 on each side, and 8 pillars, which stood in between the windows. Here and there were statues of great kings, made up of marble stone.

Susan's gaze went ahead, and her breath caught in her throat. There was a raised daise where two thrones sat side by side. One was lower than the other.

Within the lower throne sat a woman as beautiful as the night. Her skin was white as moon beams, and her eyes were a pale blue. Her long hair was dark and wavy, and her gaze was gentle, yet cool. She was dressed in deep purple, and a silver circlet lay upon her head.

Lord Faramir bowed at the knee before her. Susan glanced at Edmund before they gave a respectful bow at the waist. They bowed down at the knee before none except Aslan.

"Faramir," said the woman. "Whom do you bring?"

"Foreigners Queen Arwen," replied the Steward of Gondor. "They appeared out of nowhere in the middle of Osgiliath. They claim they do not know how they came there."

Queen Arwen looked upon them, and Susan lowered her gaze.

But Edmund did not. He stared right back at her, showing his calm demeanor under pressure.

"They do not lie in what they say," Queen Arwen said after a moment. "Have a lady in waiting care for the maiden, and a man at arms to see to the lad."

"Of course my lady," Faramir replied. He then gave a signal at his side, and immediately two servants came before them and led them out of the great hall.

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

"There names?"

"The boy said that his name was Edmund, and that the girl was his sister Susan."

"And where do they come?"

"They did not say my lady," Faramir replied. "They simply said that they were traveling westward."

"Hmm... I do not doubt them. I saw truth in both of their eyes, though some fear in the young woman."

"One more thing Arwen," said Faramir, giving up formalities.

"What would that be Faramir?" she asked, looking deeply in his eyes.

Faramir had to turn away. Few could withstand the gaze of an elf.

"They have heard the sound as well. From what they said, they were so close, that they felt pain when near it."

"Strange," replied Arwen. "Most strange."

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

Aragorn didn't know what came over him. To invite two complete strangers to accompany them to Gondor? Was he that insane?

His gaze turned back. The girl Lucy was walking in between Sam and Frodo, and the three seemed to be getting along quite well. As Sam said something, Lucy threw back her head and laughed out loud. It was such a sweet and innocent laugh, that Frodo began laughing too.

Aragorn smiled. It had been a very long time since he had heard Frodo laugh.

His gaze then turned back ahead. But he couldn't keep from looking at the man beside him from time to time.

He looked like he was in his early twenties, but already he had broad shoulders and a good build for fighting. Aragorn also noticed that his left hand never left his sword. That was a little odd. He was fairly young to be walking so comfortably with a sword at his side.

That was when he noticed the sword.

The hilt was of a roaring golden lion and its sheath was crimson red.

Aragorns eyes turned to the shield upon his back. It was shining silver, with a red lion blazing in the middle.

"That is a magnificent sword you carry," he said.

The boy, Peter, looked up, then looked at his hand on his sword.

"Thank you. It was given to me a long time ago from a wonderful friend."

"A long time ago?"

"Yes," Peter replied. "I was only 15 when it was given to me."

"But," Aragorn began, a bit confused, "wouldn't you have outgrown the sword by now?"

Peter gave a slight chuckle.

"It's the strangest thing," he replied. "Every time I grow, it grows with me."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows, but didn't press the matter furthur. Yet, he still continued to look at the sword.

Then his eyes caught something else.

A ring upon Peter's left hand, on the pointer finger. Aragorn's sharp eyes could make out a shape upon it.

His eyes widened in surprise when he realized what it was.

It was a bear. A symbol of great strength.

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

There were few Narnians who could say they knew the Kings and Queens of that same country. There were even fewer that could say they knew the Warrior.

Orieus had the sole privilege of knowing both.

And this was unlike any of them.

Oh, Miranda would disappear from time to time to make sure everything was well in Narnia. But to send no word at all was unlike her.

And all four of the kings and queens disappearing at one time!

Orieus had given it three hours before he began to panic.

Something wasn't right.

And he didn't like what the stars where saying lately.


End file.
